


Blood and Pizza

by zabjade



Series: Far to Go [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 21:46:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16272989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zabjade/pseuds/zabjade
Summary: Spike and Xander bond over video games. It takes place between chapter twelve and thirteen of Thursday’s Child





	Blood and Pizza

Pain had been Spike’s close companion for a long while, to be endured or enjoyed depending on his situation or mood. So as bad as it was, his sluggishly – for him anyway – healing wounds weren’t what was bothering him. No, was the bloody _itching_ that was threatening to drive him completely barmy. The hole in his chest – courtesy of the bloody cardboard pillock and his plastic wonder phallus – wasn’t too bad, all things considered. His feet, though…. He almost wished the sodding things had been completely dissolved off by the holy water. Then they wouldn’t itch so bloody much as the muscle tissue and skin grew back.

He closed his eyes and took several long, slow breaths, trying to distract himself. He was in Buffy’s room again after a couple of days in Dawn’s, once more confined half-naked to her bed, though this time the chains were figurative ones made of his various injuries rather than literal ones. At least the Slayer’s scent wasn’t quite as strong. Joyce had been spraying the room with something regularly and sprinkling baby powder all about.

The Slayer…. He didn’t want to think about the bloody Slayer. It was all so complicated, conflicted thoughts and feelings jumbled about like puppies in a dryer. He couldn’t _possibly_ be in love with the Slayer, but he was. Proof was in the pudding, they always said, and his pudding had been thoroughly proofed, hadn’t it? ‘Course, no visual proof of said proof as of yet, but still and all, plenty else going on to confirm the sprog was there.

Didn’t really want to think about the sprog right then either. He just wanted to… to scratch his bloody (in more ways than one) feet. He lurched up into a sitting position, gritting his teeth through the pain as the muscles around his chest wound pulled painfully. Least the sodding torture had happened when it had, and he wasn’t showing yet. Getting at his feet with a chest wound and a belly full of half-grown sprog would’ve been impossible.

_Need a new coat of varnish_ , he thought absently as he dug his fingers into the bandages wrapped around his feet. Never could seem to stop himself from picking at it. Then all thought scattered for a moment as he clawed at the itchiest places, hissing in mingled pain and relief. Bloody well hurt like a wicked bitch, it did, but at least it stopped the _itching_.

A sound came suddenly from downstairs – the front door opening – and Spike froze. Soldier boy come back to have a go at him for real? _Thought he scarpered when he realized Slayer’s stones are bigger than his._ Then the scent wafted up from below. Pizza, sweat, dirt, and sawdust. More smells as heavy footsteps plodded up the stairs, a combination that had become oddly… comforting lately.

Harris came in through the door, a couple of cherry cokes balanced on two boxes of pizza. “Got sent home from the site early today – something about a water pipe not being correctly labeled – so I thought I’d come and hang out for… a….” he trailed off, eyes going wide as he stared at Spike’s feet.

He followed the boy’s gaze. _Look a right mess, don’t I?_ he thought critically. The bandages and damaged tissue beneath had been torn, blood welling up from the rents. Not the most pleasant thing to walk in on, he supposed.

“They itched,” Spike said blandly as he looked back at Harris.

“I… can see that,” the other man said slowly. He approached the bed, putting the pizzas and sodas down on the nightstand before getting into the first aid kit set up to deal with Spike’s current set of injuries. A jar of blood was grabbed from the nearby cooler and thrust into Spike’s hand. “And we should probably make sure that _Buffy_ doesn’t.”

“Can do that myself,” Spike grumbled with a slight wince as the old bandages were pulled away. He gulped the blood down as if it had been days since he’d last had any, rather than hours. “Not bloody helpless, you know.”

The boy just gave him a look and shook his head. “Your feet look like really gross hamburger, and you’ve managed to open your chest wound back up.” Spike glanced down at the pad of gauze over his heart. It was more red than white. Huh. Hadn’t noticed that. “Just shut up, lay down, and let me handle this.”

“So, what, meant to be lying back and thinking of England, is it?” Spike huffed, not sure if he was amused, annoyed, or kind of touched. Maybe all three. Complex little buggers, emotions were.

“Keep me out of your weird British fantasies,” Harris muttered as he put on new bandages, making them tight enough to keep out any random bits and bobs but loose enough to keep from melding with the healing flesh.

Spike snorted. “Only fantasy I’ve got with you in it involves getting this sodding chip out and ripping you up into bloody chunks to be fed to the sodding seagulls.”

“Yeah, right. You _know_ you want to bite me.” Despite their words, Harris was gentle as he helped rearrange the pillows so Spike could sit up more or less comfortably without straining anything. “I am a totally nummy treat.”

He handed over a cherry coke and an actual nummy treat. A pizza with pineapple chunks, anchovies, onions, and pepperoni. Spike bit into a piece, and all was temporarily right with the world.

“Slayer send you to check on me while she’s at uni?” he asked, watching the human boy – who honestly probably would be fairly tasty, though Spike would never admit it – as he set up the video game console. Looked like he was putting in Smash Brothers.

Xander sat on the bed and grabbed his own cherry coke and pizza – a meat combo with mushrooms – before answering. “She asked if I could swing by and see how you were doing after work.”

Spike studied the man beside him, head tilted slightly in thought. Swing by, was it? Didn’t sound anything like “if you happen to get out of your shift early, how about spending some quality time with the vampire.” The boy had chosen to do it.

“Here.” Harris handed him a controller. “Since you’re feeling so pathetic today, I’ll even let you play as Pikachu.”

“ _Let me_ , is it?” Spike said with a snort. “Not like you can actually stop me, seeing as how we can both be the same bloody character if we’ve a mind to.”

“True.” The point was conceded. “But this time I won’t complain about how totally unfair it is for someone with your reflexes to play as the fastest character.”

“Well, thank god for _that_ ,” Spike muttered. “You could make whinging on about things a sodding Olympic sport.”

They played for a few hours, snarking back and forth and trading barbs in companionable… something. Spike wasn’t sure it was friendship really, but it was at least… _something_. Something that could possibly become friendship. And really, if he could be in love with the bloody Slayer of all people, then just about anything was possible, wasn’t it?


End file.
